


Take Comfort In Your Friends

by StHoltzmann



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, Comfort Food, Feels, Female Friendship, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, Realistic Election-Related Angst, Reference To Suicidal Thoughts, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StHoltzmann/pseuds/StHoltzmann
Summary: Thanksgiving, 2016, at Ghostbusters HQ. Holtzmann's having some trouble wrangling her post-election emotions, but Patty and Holtzmann wind up helping each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This Patty-Holtzmann friendship continues from [What You Have Shown Me.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8174975) Content warning for discussion of 2016 election aftermath, including references to racism, healthcare issues, and homophobic policies. But this was written for a tiny cup of comfort, not for deepening angst.

November 24, 2016

The sun had already been down for an hour, but Ghostbusters HQ was bright and warm inside. In the renovated firehouse kitchen, chatter and laughter mixed with the scents of a bewildering assortment of food. In various stages of preparation and unpackaging on the counters, stovetop, and table, were turkey curry, stuffed mushrooms, a dozen unlabeled cheeses, smoked salmon, blackened shishito peppers, cornbread, a multicolored jello salad, pelmeni, habanero macaroni and cheese, pizzas, kimbap, croissants, wonton soup (of course), bean soup, something labeled “cheesy corn thing,” scallion pancakes, and a casserole dish that held a towering layer of browned marshmallows and coconut, under which sweet potatoes presumably lurked. Not to mention a great quantity of pies: pumpkin, pecan, sweet potato, lemon chess…and then the Boston cream pie, which was causing Kevin a great deal of confusion.

“How is the physics of all this food gonna work out?” asked Patty. “I mean, we only have so many stomachs here.”

“You have to do your part,” said Abby, shaking her ladle sternly—which resulted in flecks of curry on Erin’s cheek. “I told you not to eat too much at your family dinner.”

“You and the rest stopped by for _ten minutes_ and not one of you got away without being fixed a plate,” Patty retorted. “You show up to a Tolan family dinner, you get fed. That’s the rules.”

Erin sighed and patted her stomach. The button at the waist of her twill skirt was unfastened. “Worth it. Especially since I didn’t hear anybody saying ‘well, we should give him a chance’ or ‘we owe the office our respect.’ I just…really couldn’t face the prospect of certain extended family today. And I already freaked out my poor little niece last night, when NPR mentioned the thing about NASA’s earth science division.”

“What…what did you do?” Patty eyed Erin.

“I let out…I guess one might call it ‘an unholy shriek.’” Erin’s cheeks reddened as she focused on unwrapping the kimbap. “And she might have learned a few new words.”

“Oh, Erin. That’s why you can’t keep things pent up all the time. When they erupt—BOOM!” Abby mimed an explosion, still with the ladle in her hand.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” said Kevin, glancing up and licking curry off of his collar. His shirt had become another victim of Abby’s gestures. “I didn’t know turkey could have a flavor! I thought it was some kind of American hazing ritual. You know, like Oreos and Cheez Whiz.” He resumed staring suspiciously at the Boston cream pie’s label.

“A—anyway,” said Erin. “We can just graze on this stuff and marathon something ridiculous all night. We’ll work our way through it. Teamwork!”

“I, for one, intend to get thoroughly smashed,” said Abby. She pushed the sleeves of her burgundy cardigan up in a determined way.

“Uh-oh,” murmured Erin.

“C’mon. Don’t tell me you don’t wanna.” Abby nodded toward the folding table that held bottles of wine, beer, and cider, as well as bottles of Martinelli’s and sparkling French lemonade for Kevin. “I mean, yes, yes, I’m an adult. I’ll just get a little tipsy. I _want_ to get thoroughly, completely, amnesiac drunk, but I won’t.”

“At least our research isn’t federally funded,” Erin said, staring distantly at the platter of smoked salmon in her hands. “But if Mayor Bradley loses a lot of city funding for being a sanctuary city, we—”

“NOPE,” said Patty. “We are _not_ doing this tonight. Voldemort-talk Is. Not. Allowed. Sure, tomorrow we can get back to ‘how can Holtzmann’s nutcracker be used to end racism’ and ‘what if we ‘lost’ some ghosts in D.C.’ and ‘how bad of an idea would it be to drive the Ectomobile in the Women’s March,’ but no despair in this room tonight! You hear me? Tonight is for us. We’re still here, and we ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Yes ma’am.” Abby put the lid on the pot of turkey curry and saluted with an oven mitt.

“Where _is_ Holtzmann?” Kevin asked. “Maybe she could explain this with some sciencey stuff, but…” He shuddered and turned away from the Boston cream pie. “Some things man was _just_ not meant to know,” he said gravely.

“Not that man, anyway,” Abby said under her breath.

“I haven’t seen Holtzy since she unmolded that jello salad thing,” Patty said thoughtfully. “I’ll go drag her out here. By the way, when I figure out which one of you gave her that unholy 1960s cookbook, you’re gonna regret it.”

* * *

Patty found Holtzmann after several minutes of searching, when a faint rhythmic noise led her to the darkness of a supply closet in the lab.

“Hey, Holtzy. What’re you doing in here with…with whatever it is you keep in here?” Patty eased the door open slightly, letting a little light in through the crack.

Holtzmann was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, head turned away from Patty.

“Holtz…are you okay? Can I come in?”

“Join the party,” said Holtzmann, in a bleak tone.

Patty let herself in and lowered herself down to the floor. “You couldn’t have picked somewhere with a chair? These jeans are way too tight for these kinds of shenanigans,” she grumbled affectionately. She leaned against Holtzmann gently, just a little, so that their shoulders were touching. “I’m here.”

Holtzmann rocked back and forth, faintly. After a while, she said, “I used to do this to sleep. When I didn’t feel safe.”

“Oh, Holtzy. Holtzy, baby...”

“Yeah. I had a few unusual habits. I bet you’re shocked.” She turned toward Patty. Her face was dry, but her eyes, partially hidden by her hair, were tired.

“You’ve destroyed everything I thought I knew about the universe,” Patty agreed.

“I used to just put my face into my bathtub, into the water. I didn’t want to drown. I just didn’t want to be there…”

“Aw, Holtz. What brought this on? I mean, if you want to say.” Patty lightly rubbed Holtzmann’s tense back.

Holtzmann looked up at Patty. Her eyes were bright, and her dimples suddenly showed, in a pained smile. “It’s so _good_ right now,” said Holtzmann. “Upstairs. Thanksgiving. The last two years. So good. It makes my heart hurt, because…” She trailed off.

“Oh.” Patty sighed and nodded. “Because everything’s so _bad_ right now.”

“There are just a lot of things I thought were _done_ , like the electron cloud model, or steady state theory, or…conversion therapy.” Holtzmann’s mouth formed the words as though they were acid on her tongue. “I’m not worried for me. I’m an adult. An adult with proton pistols, in fact. Come at me, bros! But kids like I was—they don’t have proton pistols or you guys.”

“I hear you,” said Patty. She waited, her face creased with concern.

“OK, and…it feels like I didn’t have something, and then I had it, and now it’s been taken away again. It’s ununoctium, circa 2002.”

“…Sure,” said Patty. “I mean, I have no idea about ununoctium—I’ll look it up later—but I get you.”

They said in silence for a moment.

“Fuckweasels,” Holtzmann said suddenly. She grabbed Patty’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to shut my trap. I know that all this is just more and louder of the same ol’ shit, for a lot of people.”

“Hooboy, do I have a _lot_ to say to people who’re so surprised by all this. And it starts with ‘Were y’all not listening to us? Any of us? At all?’” Patty shook her head. “I got some new worries though. You met some of my family today…well, there’s my Muslim auntie, and my nephew who just married a girl from El Salvador, and my niece—the one who came down from SUNY, with the piercings?—yeah, she loves going to protests. I mean, I worried about her before, but now…And there’s my uncle and a bunch of other people who own their own businesses or work for themselves or whatever, and some of them could get real sick if they don’t have healthcare. And on and on."

"Shit," said Holtzmann. "Too much."

"But even though all the world’s old problems were still there, the last couple of years, I felt like I had—well, I’m just gonna say it. I felt like I had some power. Now? I don’t even know.”

"Aw, Patty." Holtzmann leaned her head on Patty’s shoulder, and they wrapped their arms around each other.

“I love not knowing things,” said Holtzmann, after a moment. “Or I did before. Now it just hurts. And I don’t know if I want to be here.”

“Hey. We gotta hold on,” said Patty. “We gotta. I don’t mean hold on while the ship goes down. I mean hold on to each other, and then roll up our jumpsuit sleeves and get to work.

Holtzmann let out a long breath. “I’d do pretty much anything to stick with you guys.”

“Except stop setting our desks on fire and giving us dangerously untested weapons…”

“…because I love you all.” Holtzmann grinned.

“You sound like a woman who’s done with the feelings thing, and ready for some lemon chess pie.” Patty stood up, and Holtzmann scrambled up after her.

“Are you _sure_ that’s not a J-pop group?”

“Get on up to the kitchen and find out.”

* * *

 

Patty tapped her fork on her wine glass as everyone settled into their chairs. “Hey, y’all can say grace or do the _I am thankful for_ Norman Rockwell thing later if you want—“

“Fuck yeah, Norman Rockwell.” Holtzmann gave a fist pump.

“—Ahem. But right now I’m going to take back my No Bad Thoughts decree from earlier, just for a moment. I know some of us may be feeling a little guilty about being here now, with all this weird-ass and wonderful food, and you weird-ass and wonderful people.” Everyone nodded, even Kevin. “And feeling terrified and happy at the same time, it’ll give you indigestion for sure. I know. But you gotta roll with it. We’re here, we’re together. And…”

Patty ducked her head down for a moment, looking into her wine glass. The candles reflected off of her earrings, and the rest of the table could see that tears were rising in her eyes. Erin reached over and patted her hand.

Patty cleared her throat. “The ‘together’ part here is real important. It’s not some kind of indulgence. It’s not a luxury. Yeah, it’s comforting, and we need to remember that we’re not alone. But we’re more powerful together. Friends, a team, a family—“

“Power Rangers,” interjected Holtzmann.

“ _Whatever_ you want to call it,” said Patty, managing to glare and grin at the same time. “And when you get all of us in one place? We’re goddamn _unstoppable_.”

“Damn straight,” said Erin.

“Jesus, you guys. You’re making me choke up, so how am I gonna eat?” Abby demanded.

“Oh my god!” Erin poked Abby’s cheek. “I didn’t even know you could cry.”

“Th—there’s a lot to cry about,” Holtzmann said. She looked down at her napkin and twisted it between her fingers, then blinked a few times. She took a deep breath, and then lifted her chin. “But we’ve got to hold on. Stick together.”

Patty nodded and took the hands of Abby and Holtzmann, on either side of her. “Because you know what? We _already_ saved the world once, the four of us. ”

The others nodded. (Kevin, wisely, didn’t say anything). “Hell yeah we did,” Abby said, her voice cracking.

Holtzmann lifted her beer. “What’s a Cheeto-faced man compared to a marshmallow-ghost man, anyway? Nuttin’, for us.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Kevin, and he hoisted a forkful of jello salad.

Outside, the night only deepened, but the lights and the shouts of laughter inside the firehouse went on.

 

_If you feel like letting go, hang on_

_You are not alone_

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty self-indulgent...and I have to say, I always have trouble imagining superheroes living in a world that still has all the social problems of our own (like, what are they DOING with their stupid powers if they let Jim Crow laws stand and and and--!). I have a similar problem imagining the Ghostbusters experiencing this year, because it would really affect them: three scientists, a black woman, a queer woman, people who love education, people who probably wouldn't have health insurance if not for the city. Heck, even a person who's probably on a really questionable visa! They're all at risk.
> 
> But they live in a pulp world, so they'll kick some ass and come out on top. Never fear! 
> 
> In the meantime, it's the rest of us who need to hold on and take comfort in our friends. And yeah, okay, so this is also more or less (clichéd) REM songfic. Certain parts of the words to ["Everybody Hurts"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2N_uvnvGbI) always get stuck in my head when it seems a little hard to hang on. This is for you, if you think you've had too much, and if everything seems wrong. I love you, and you're not alone.


End file.
